A Garden of Our Own
by Dobby's Socks
Summary: "It was a strange, accidental habit he had developed; causing Earth women throughout history to fall in love with him." The Doctor reflects on some of the women he has unintentionally charmed, and who charmed him. Happy Valentine's Day! New and Classic Who referenced, Doctor/various historical women, Doctor/River


**Ok, ok, I should be working on my multi-chapter stories. But, this idea just popped into my head and I figured now would be the best time to post it. Enjoy!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**A Garden of Our Own**

It was a strange, accidental habit he had developed; causing Earth women throughout history fall in love with him. It was not entirely unwelcome and yet he did not particularly relish it, either. For while he'd met some truly extraordinary females of the human species, he was the Doctor, a Time Lord. A he wasn't much the domestic, marrying type. Not to mention most of those aforementioned women were already married.

Reinette, such a curious girl, quick and clever as a woman. She had charmed many in her days at Versailles, not the least of which the king of France. And though she'd been young and he'd barely known her for an hour, she'd caused his hearts to beat just a little faster, perhaps to match the tempo as she'd taken his hand and taught him to dance. And despite the quite passionate kiss they'd shared at their second meeting, he truly looked back on theirs as a chaste, innocent romance, yet still intimate by the time they'd shared in each other's minds. But Madame de Pompadour wasn't meant to see the stars, there was simply too much she could accomplish at home, and so he'd returned too late in her tragically short time stream.

Elizabeth I, an actual monarch this time around. Perhaps the less said about Liz, the better. Not that he appreciated her any less, oh no. The red-haired queen was fiery, intelligent, and determined to get what she wanted. The problem had been that _he_ apparently was one of those things, and the only solution in her incredibly rational mind was a legally binding one. He'd never meant to just leave her in that field, but honestly, his fight or flight response had kicked in, and he certainly wasn't going to fight such a brilliant woman.

Marilyn Monroe, a royal of cinema if nothing else. Now Marilyn really had been a complete misunderstanding. He'd been so wrapped up in his plans to make a better life for Kazran and his worries for Amy and Rory on the Starliner, that he hadn't even registered her advances until the film star's lips were pressing firmly against his cheek, and it was some time before he realized she'd left her mark. He had to credit her in that she'd actually gotten him to a chapel, albeit a fake one. Looking back on it now, he was willing to admit that her soft, blonde waves and classic curves reminded him of someone more than a little.

Nefertiti of Egypt. Ah, the Lady of the Two Lands. Oh dear, Neffy had been very, well, forward with her desires. He'd felt nearly overwhelmed and just the tiniest bit frightened of the Pharaoh's wife, and yet still in awe of her strength, intellect, and take-charge attitude. That he'd brought her hundreds of years in the future to a spaceship filled with dinosaurs barely fazed the woman, she just took it in stride, with the grace befitting her stature. And she had made all her own decisions, defying him in order to try and save everyone else. That in the end she'd found Riddell to be enticing enough of an option instead had been an immense relief to him, as he'd had absolutely no idea how to actually refuse the domineering woman, so much so that he didn't mind disrupting the timelines by dropping her off in 1902 instead of 1334.

All truly amazing, outstanding, revered women, rewarded for their actions and endeavors with near-eternal fame. But none of them had been the first.

Cameca, an unassuming, unremembered woman of Aztec society. He'd passed many a day in the Garden of Peace simply contented by her company, when normally he might he perhaps been pacing about and snapping irritably at every unfortunate passing soul. She had been blessed by her gods with both wit and wisdom, and was weathered and warm.

Cameca had called him dear heart, and guessed so very correctly that under all the stiff, important posturing he had still been a man very young at heart, then. And while his perceived proposal had been entirely accidental, he had found himself unable to regret his naïve action. He still carried the gem, her gift to him, through the long, weary intervening years. And though she perhaps had had the least inkling of an idea of just how different, just how alien he was, he had a feeling that to her it wouldn't have made a difference in her affections. Cameca had valued his company far more than the running or adventures or anything else. Peace and contentment and serenity they had shared together in that garden, the likes of which he hadn't known since.

Yet he had left her saddened and alone all the same. Cameca, however, had accepted it with an unparalleled amount of dignity, even aiding in the rescue of his granddaughter and assisting their escape from Tlotoxl. He only wished he could have found some way to show his gratitude, leave her with something…more.

"Sweetie?" The Doctor blinked, returning abruptly to reality. He hadn't even realized she'd joined him on the couch in the library.

"Hm? Yes?" Amused eyes regarded him through steam, and it took him a moment to realize the reason he could not make them out as clearly as normal was because of the mug she—his wife—held out to him. Taking it and allowing the warmth to seep through ceramic and into his fingers, he sniffed deeply. "Cocoa?"

"I found it in the TARDIS' cupboards, and I thought we could both use a treat," River Song explained, sipping delicately at her own mug. "It's quite good," she remarked casually, but the way her eyes sparkled as she looked at him with her mouth curling into a true smile spoke volumes.

"It is, isn't it," he replied, taking his own gulp of the warm, rich liquid, far superior to any of that alcoholic nonsense. Standing and stretching he added, "I think I might go make us some more."

"Oh?" She inquired with a raised eyebrow, her smile transforming into a smirk as she set aside her self-brewed mug.

"Yes. I insist absolutely," he echoed his words from so long ago, and exited the room. Out in the corridor, he could hear her good-natured chuckles, and smiled to himself. Cocoa…for Cameca—his fiancée—forever a token of his esteem.

"Happy anniversary, my dear," the Doctor murmured. And really, across time and space, did it really matter to who?

**Ok, so some introspective romance, not really something I'm used to writing, but I have wanted to include something of Classic Who in my writings, and until I've seen enough episodes to feel like I've got a real handle on the characters, this was the best way to do it. And it was also a bit of a homage to just some of the awesome ladies of history Doctor Who has featured. The title and some lines come directly from "The Aztecs" so if you recognize it, it's not mine. As always, thanks for reading and please review!**


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